Becoming many-celledfrom whitish to pale tan, consuming the soft crystalof my confiscated skin,the alien searched me. Like a probe sent into the outerhemispheres of my consciousness. I searched back. I wondered intoits yucca-sized eyes, and the room became calm, a cream-colored scent of smokerising as the holy spirit does for Baptistson Sunday mornings when they really need […]
Tea House: Interviews, Commentary, Reviews, Poetry & Prose